Put the Kettle On
by Hestia01
Summary: Alice leaves on her voyage, pondering her adventures.  Meanwhile, an old friend from far away thinks of her...
1. Chapter 1

Put the Kettle On

Two weeks had passed since the _Wonder_ had left British waters; Alice lies in her bunk, letting her thoughts drift with the sway of the ship. With no souvenirs from her last visit to Underland except the scratches on her arm, she could almost believe that it had all been a dream—if it hadn't been for the loneliness. She closes her eyes and rolls over with a sigh, the rocking of the ship almost reminds her of traveling by hat. She had been sorely tempted, more so than she let on at the time, to remain with Tarrant in Underland. To rebuild the world that in a way she considers her own.

"Hatter! You haven't heard a word I just said, have you?" Malyumkin chides sharply. When her rebuke is answered with a distracted grunt, she hops onto his hand and stabs him with a hat pin. He jumps, upsetting his now-cold tea. "She won't be back, you know," she informs him unsympathetically. "She'll have forgotten all about you by the time she woke up in her world, just like before."

With his usual speed of his mood swings, his head snaps up. His gloomy demeanor evaporates into manic cheerfulness. "Well, then! If she's not likely to come here, it seems I have no choice but to journey up to the Overlands."

"And drag her back?" the Dormouse suggests sarcastically. Ignoring her last comment, the Hatter stands and marches determinedly to seek audience with the White Queen.

Queen Mirana and her court are still very much involved with undoing Iracabeth's vile workings. Although it isn't an easy time, day by day all of Underland could see improvements. Prisoners, those lucky enough to escape with their heads intact, are released, iron-fisted laws are swept away and replaced with justice. As though Nature herself is celebrating the new administration, the death-choked pallor which had infested portions of Underland are restored to colorful brilliance.

Even the Queen's trees seemed happier.

"Tarrant Hightop," she welcomes him as he enters the alabaster throne room.

With a merry flourish, he takes off his hat and bows. "I have a favor to ask, Your Majesty."

"My dear Hatter, I am deeply in your debt. What is your wish? Speak it and it will be done."

Here, the Hatter falters, his gaze falls upon the Champion's armor which is once again displayed by the throne. His thoughts are consumed with the magnificent warrior who last wore it. Gold falling against the silver…

"You wish to go to the Overlands, do you not?" He nods, muttering assent. "You…seek someone there?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. If she'd-" he cuts himself off abruptly.

The Queen smiles and rises. With a deep nod and graceful sweep of her arm she glides to her apothecarium and beckons the Hatter to follow. Once inside, she places a vial in his hand. "You, too, fought for the freedom of Underland. It is only right that you should have a share in the spoils of victory."

"Will it bring me to Alice?"

"If that is your wish. Do you intend to remain with her?"

"Do I 'intend'?" he bursts out angrily, his eyes suddenly rimmed in darkest blue. "What use is _intending_? I don't know, I _can't_ know!" He rages, yet even in his unstable mood he can almost hear Alice's voice, gently calling him back. "Sorry," he squeaks, "I'm fine."

"Here," the Queen intones, slipping another vial of the Jabberwock's blood into his coat pocket. "In case you wish to come back. Rabbit holes aren't as reliable as they once were."

"Thank you," he whispers, and downs it in one swallow. He sees the room darken and mist away. Next moment, he feels he is traveling at fantastic speeds towards a bright light, which bursts with color and sound.

Alice is awoken by a stirring sound in her room. Propping herself up on her elbow, she scans the room for the source. Suddenly, her entire face brightens, "Hatter!" Kneeling down on the floor, she picks up the 6-inch tall form of her old friend.

His first reaction is joyous as well. "So you didn't forget?" Then it dawns on him, "It seems it's my turn to be too small."

"I don't care, I'm so happy to see you. I've missed you; I tried to convince myself it was all another dream. But I guess I'd have to be half-mad to dream you up." She seems to genuinely not be concerned with their yawning height difference; she sits back down on her bed, holding him in her lap as though he's a doll.

"So," he gasps, overcome with excitement, "What happened after you disappeared….reappeared? After you went back, uh, woke up, I mean left-"

"Hatter!"

He checks himself, nods, "Thank you."

"It was rather odd; almost as if I hadn't been gone for any time at all. I was in a rabbit hole under a tree…the party was still going on. I went back…and declined Hamish's offer."

"What offer?"

"Marriage. I realized I didn't want to marry him; I have a life of my own. We wouldn't have gotten along at all. We had nothing in common and he doesn't even like me. It nearly killed his mother when I said no. Now someone else will have to tend to his digestion."

"He must be intolerably stupid not to appreciate you. You're magnificent."

Tarrant's unfettered flattery gets a shy smile out of her. "I never could understand why he wanted to marry me in the first place," Alice muses. "We'd only seen each other precious few times, I must've been promised to him even before I was born. It's so silly. Any time we spent five minutes together, he'd end up thinking I'm completely mad." Her smile grows broader along with her friend's. "Maybe he's right."

"Maybe," is all that he trusts himself to say.

"I'm so glad you came," Alice tells her miniature friend. "It's a shame we can never seem to be the same size, though."

"What difference does that make?" Tarrant asks.

With a rather suggestive look, she answers smoothly, "Well, how am I going to introduce you to my mother?" She strokes his wild red hair with a strangely longing expression. "You've got to be the best friend I've ever had." She's quiet for a moment, then poses, "Why did you come up here anyway? How did you find me?"

"The White Queen had a hand in it, she knew I wanted….to see you again."

"Me? You came all this way just to see me?"

Tarrant falters, looking crestfallen. "Oh…were you hoping for some other reason?"

Alice doesn't answer. She holds his hands with a pensive expression. If she had the choice, she would've gone back to him, too. She's amazed and touched that he'd feel the same way. During their time together in Underland, she had felt a strong connection with him. Strong enough to make her certain that she'd dreamed him up. What would be more natural for a young woman, about to be forced into a loveless marriage against her will, than to invent a more ideal mate in her head? And yet, even when she'd thought it was a dream, Alice had found within herself a deep wellspring of loyalty to the Hatter. "I just thought there was an emergency or something back in Underland. I guess I was a little worried."

"No, no, everything's fine."

"Good, glad to hear it."

Tarrant fidgets in her lap, "Of course, if anything should go wrong, I know where to find our Champion."

Alice laughs, "I just wish someone here could believe that _I_ was ever anybody's Champion. I haven't even _tried_ to tell my mother or Margaret about it. Maybe Aunt Imogene would believe me…Anyway, I think that will have to be our little secret." She hugs him tighter. "They've noticed, though. They can tell I'm different."

"Muchier," Tarrant supplies.

"_Much_ muchier," she agrees. "Thank you."

The Hatter brushes it aside nervously, "For what?"

"Helping me find my muchness."

Up above them, a voice calls: "Miss Kingsleigh, please come up here at once!"

Alice and Tarrant exchange worried looks, wondering what to do about him, should he be discovered! She looks around her room for likely places, at a loss. "Hide," she tells him, not altogether helpfully before heading to the deck of the ship.

Once she's up there, she's glad she came. A school of porpoise are following alongside the _Wonder_, leaping elegantly in smooth arcs.

"The captain says it's a good omen," one of the deckhands tells her as she stares over the side of the ship.

After a few more minutes of watching their finned escorts, Alice enters the captain's cabin for a look at the map.

"Tomorrow we should reach Portugal; we can stop there and replenish our supplies, and from there lays the open sea."

She passes through the galley on her way back to her bunk, grabbing a snack for herself and the Hatter, she cautiously opens her door. Peering around curiously, she whispers, "It's all right, it's me. Where are you?" Straining her ears for some tiny noise, one that would tell her where her friend is hiding, she hears the sound of snipping. Shutting the door behind her, Alice continues looking over her room, but there's no sign of him anywhere. The faint snipping sound has stopped, giving her no clue as to his location. She looks under her bed, in her shoes, everywhere a very small person could readily hide. Finally, she opens the lid of her trunk There he is, peeking out from under her blue cloak. Alice smiles with a relieved sigh at the sight of him.

The minute Alice had left Tarrant started missing her. Now more than ever he knows that what he felt around her wasn't madness—at least not his usual brand. This feeling was much kinder, but strangely more painful. Here was his Champion, she who braved and tamed the Bandersnatch in order to save him from the Red Queen, the one for whom he'd traversed the dimensions to see once more. As he sits pondering over his fully-realized love for the girl, darkness creeps over him yet again. _If you think she'd feel the same, you must truly be mad! No such superb creature could gaze as fondly at a half-witted teatime-obsessed, hat-making lunatic! Freak! You hardly deserve her friendship, let alone so much as dream of more! _He seethes angrily, his thoughts consumed with self-hatred and frustration. Then, just as quickly, he changes…he remembers the times she's smiled at him—how he soared then! She'd actually hugged him, admitted temptation to stay with him. _Nincompoop, just because she wanted to stay in Underland doesn't mean she necessarily wanted _you_ to be part of the picture!_ But he is immune to his own bitterness now. Even if she won't be coming back with him, he wants to make her something to remember him by. Running his fingers down his suit thoughtfully, mentally taking stock of his instruments, he hits upon it. _It might not be of any use to her, but some small…very small…token might be appreciated._ He climbs up into Alice's trunk and burrows in. He is literally swimming in material. Seizing a likely-looking piece, he began to work.

Now they gaze at each other, both of them unaware of doing so. Since his arrival, Alice has been overwhelmed by these sudden fond feelings within herself. She is certain she hasn't worn a straight face since their reunion. _I must be mad._ Once again she reaches down and strokes his hair, trailing her finger down his face. She stops abruptly, as though just realizing what she's been doing.

"I'm sorry…" she begins, standing back up. Embarrassment burns in Alice's face and throat and she can no longer face him. If anyone had presumed to touch her that way, she certainly wouldn't have appreciated it…with perhaps one exception. Now she wouldn't be surprised if he never spoke to her again. Or wouldn't he? Since they met for the second time in Underland, they'd come to view and treat one another as someone equal to themselves…in many ways, as an extension of themselves. _Perhaps he doesn't mind_, she hopes, recognizing that she wouldn't mind if he did it to her. _This isn't how it's done. So, what am I doing, then? Why do I want to?_ Years of stiff aristocratic upbringing are fighting against her newly-restored muchness, and it's becoming more apparent which the stronger force is.

Alice turns back, sees the Hatter's gloomy expression and squats near him again.

"Something wrong?" he ventures timidly.

"I…shouldn't have done that. It's just…I don't even know your real name," she whispers, flushing.

Relief brings the life back to his face; he then realizes she'd never called him anything except 'Hatter'. Not that it matters; he's answered to that title long enough. Besides, there's an endearing quality to the way Alice says it. _Or is that my imagination?_

"Tarrant, Tarrant Hightop."

"Tarrant," Alice repeats, smoothing his wild hair again with trembling fingers.

He then bends down into the trunk and holds out a miniature hat. It's made from a few snips of her own blue cloak, modeled after his own but made in a more feminine style. It's plumed with white feathers and pearled pins, wrapped in indigo ribbon with long sashes. "I know it's not quite your size…but I thought…that is I hoped you'd want something to remember me by. Before you let yourself think it was all a dream."

Carefully, Alice takes it in her hand. How she'd longed for a hat made by his hands! He is truly an expert in his craft. Strange that someone with such an unquiet mind would be able to create something of such beauty and grace. "Stay with me," she pleads shortly. Sensing his hesitation, she amends, "Or…if you can't…and I can see why that might be…have you got any pishsalver?"

Tarrant starts in surprise, "Why?"

"Because if I'm going to go back with you I want to be the right size," Alice answers with fierce determination. In the instant that he'd presented the hat to her, she knew where her future lies. As much as she wants to continue her father's work, she'd made sure his dream wasn't in vain. Charles Kingsleigh's friend and partner had finally seen the light and is willing to now carry on in his stead. And while a future of sailing the seas had its appeal, two weeks on the ocean told her that she belonged on dry land. Her family…she would leave them a letter, explaining…and perhaps someday she could come back again. _Yes, someday, and I'll introduce them all…_ Near the trunk lies her writing-desk. In the best way she can, Alice writes out an explanation of events.

There's a long silence as both parties grasp what is happening. Again, the Hatter must ask, "Why?"

"Because I love you," she blurts out inelegantly, then looks furious with herself at such a hasty confession.

He's too flabbergasted to return it in kind, it's all he can do to gasp, "Alice!" But she knows what he means by it. It's unmistakable. Tears spring from her eyes and she tries hurriedly to wipe them away. "Careful," he tells her gently, "Remember what happened last time. Wouldn't want anyone to drown in a pool of tears." With a few sniffles, she stops. He gives her a tiny bottle. "Not too much, now."

Alice takes a swallow and soon feels the sensation of shrinking. The floor is coming up to meet her, and before she falls out of sight, the Hatter takes her hands and pulls her into the trunk with him. She lays sprawled on top of him, both of them blushing at their posture.

"Oh my!" she whispers, pulling at her tent-like underthings into something more modest. Again, there's the sound of snipping and rapid stitching. As Alice pulls herself into her new garment, she remarks, "The Queen should hire you as her dressmaker, too."

Watching her twirl before him, the Hatter replies, "I like it."

Now she picks up the hat he'd made for her and puts it on. She can't help feeling as though they're now betrothed.

Tarrant takes one of his larger thimbles, pours half of the Jabberwocky's blood into it, and hands it to her. Clinking the vial against it with a cheeky grin, he mutters "See you there."

"Fairfarren," she responds with a smile, linking arms with him as they drink together.

The world around them darkens and mists away…and a world of possibilities awaits.


	2. Chapter 2

Helen Kingsleigh sits out on the lawn and holds a letter in her lap with a sigh. From all the times it's been read and re-read it's become worn and creased. She looks down to read through it again, as though hoping that this time it will bear different news.

Dear Mrs. Kingsleigh,

It is my unfortunate duty to inform you of your daughter's disappearance. Enclosed is the note she left behind, though I doubt it will be of any use in locating her. It is indeed a mystery.

With deepest condolences,

Etc, etc…

_Gone…disappeared…no hope._ She remembers the last time she saw Alice, seeing her off on her grand voyage across the sea. Filled with confidence that all would be well, she never doubted for a second that she'd be safe. Ever since the failed engagement party, she sensed a change in her youngest daughter. Gone was the sullen, brooding, uncertain child. In her place was a grown young woman, sure of herself and her convictions. Helen folds the letter again, now reading the note that Alice had left:

I've gone to Underland; don't try to find me because you can't. I'll be all right. Hope to see you soon.

Love, Alice

It would certainly be no use in locating her. Even venturing into her late husband's library to look through his old maps, she had no luck finding any such place as Underland.

Just when she's about to go back into the house, a stray movement catches her eye. Something darting into the bushes…a rabbit, probably. They'd be the death of her gardener, although they'd always been spared because they'd pleased Alice so. Without thinking how ridiculous it would sound, she speaks aloud to the small furry creature in the hedge.

"Alice isn't here, little rabbit. And I don't know where she's gone."

Then, to her utter shock and amazement, it spoke back.

"I know."

She stares at him silently. The absurdity of speaking to an animal now paled in comparison to the rabbit actually speaking to her. "What did you say?"

Now he hops out of the bushes, brushing leaves and twigs from his velvet waistcoat and clears his throat importantly. "I said, madam, 'I know.' Meaning I know that Alice no longer lives here, and that I do know where she's gone to."

"I'm dreaming…" she murmurs, fanning herself with the letters.

The White Rabbit heaves a sigh and flicks his ears back. "Alice used to think so, too. You people…"

By now, Helen no longer cares how far-fetched this situation has turned out to be. All that matters is that this creature appears to have seen her lost daughter. "You know her? You've seen my daughter? Where is she?"

The Rabbit now begins to look worried, nervously taking out his pocket watch and checking the time. "Oh, now this is unexpected. She'd assured me you knew. You didn't get her message, then?"

"Yes, I did, but what's this nonsense of her going to 'Underland'? There's no such place on any map."

"Well, of course it isn't on a map, Human. But, it's true, she's there. I promise you she is very well-kept at that. Alice is betrothed to Tarrant Hightop, Hatter to the Queen."

Helen now kneels down on the grass, eye-level with the talking rabbit. "But…but…"

He illuminates further, hoping to set the woman's mind at ease. "Why, she is our Champion! It was she who slew the Jabberwocky and restored the crown to the rightful keeper! Surely, she told you of this?" He wriggles his pink nose hopefully.

Still too baffled to take all of this in, she says, "Not a word."

"Ah. Well, she probably didn't expect you to believe her. Would you?"

"Of course not, she was barely gone half an hour before she came back, all tangled and covered in dirt." Then she takes into account once more that she's carrying on a conversation with a rabbit. Suddenly things are seeming more believable now. She looks up and around, dreading what anyone would think should they see her like this. "Can…you take me to her?"

"Certainly! Follow me. That's what she did." He takes off a little way ahead of her, she can still hear him muttering to himself, "Never would have guessed. Not like Alice at all…I ought not to get too far off, yes. Perhaps…a bit more gently for this one…" He stops at a hollow tree, looks up to make sure Mrs. Kingsleigh is right behind him. "Follow me, keep close. And don't be frightened, now." He tells her, and with that, he dives into the hole. At the last second, he'd grabbed onto the hem of her skirt, sufficiently dragging her in with him.

For the first few minutes, she screams wildly, thrashing around in a freefall. Beside her is the Rabbit, who seems to be taking it all in stride. He lounges in midair, looking thoroughly unconcerned. "For goodness sake, woman, do stop this behavior. It isn't dignified at all.

Down, down they tumble down the hole, filled with lamps and bits of furniture which Helen can't help but knock into now and then.

"Careful!" the Rabbit chides, after a shower of spilled books tumble after them.

When they reach the bottom, the Rabbit lands lightly on four paws, while Helen lands sprawled out ungracefully on her face.

"Now, I hadn't anticipated taking anyone else down with me, so we'll spare the formalities, you know. Or…you don't know. Humph." He huffs, liking this arrangement less and less. "The key is on the table, take care you don't drop it or forget it like Alice did. Twice!"

His companion takes the tiny key between her fingers, "But which door?"

"Ah-ah! First you must take the pishsalver."

"The…what?"

"The bottle, my dear woman, the bottle! How else are you supposed to fit? Dear, dear…no sense at all, these humans. And don't forget the key!"

"Well, why don't you hold onto it if it bothers you so much?" Helen has stopped worrying about how absurd the day has been so far, and has accepted that it's likely to get stranger still. Already, the talking rabbit seemed perfectly normal, although she was beginning to dislike his bossy tone. She hands him the key and picks up the bottle. "Drink Me," she reads aloud. After smelling it, she takes a small sip. Soon, it appears the floor is coming up to meet her, with a sharp gasp she realizes she's shrinking, her clothes soon billow around her. When she stops, she and the Rabbit stand eye-to-eye, or at least until he stands back up on his hind legs. She clutches at her slips in attempt to cover herself. Once she's made the necessary adjustments, she and her guide go through the door together.

Expecting to find more tunnels, Helen is surprised when they step into broad daylight. Flowers as tall as the tallest trees bloom all around them, attracting dragon-flies, rocking-horse flies, and the like. Paying no heed to his companion, who is staring in open-mouthed amazement at her surroundings, the White Rabbit plunges on ahead, stopping only to look over his shoulder and give her a rather hard look.

"Yes, yes, it's all very nice, but I thought you wanted to find Alice."

"Yes…of course..." she sighs dreamily. "Is this Underland?"

"All that lies between the Door and the Outlands is the realm of Underland," he gestures grandly into the distance. "I don't wish to be impertinent, madam, but why _do_ you women of the Overlands insist on dressing that way?"

Tugging at a few stray ribbons into a more secure bow, she replies, "In case we shrink and need something smaller to wear." Her voice drips with sarcasm. This ludicrously impossible creature should be simply leading her to Alice, not offering commentary on the way she dresses. She thinks wistfully of her daughter, hoping that they'll find her soon and end this wretched sojourn. There seems no form or function to anything here. It's like looking into a vastly distorted version of the world she knows. A troop of green hedgehogs trample past, grunting amongst themselves, followed by a swooping flock of bread-and-butterflies. She rolls her eyes at them. "Everything is what it isn't, isn't it?"

"Glad to see you're catching on at last. I was beginning to wonder," the Rabbit sniffs haughtily, hopping on ahead with determined purpose. He leads her straight on through Tulgey Wood, eternally shrouded in twilight, although the rest of the land is in the full midday sun. This causes her to wonder how exactly the sun shines down here. They had fallen a great deal underground, miles and miles by the feel of it, but…Helen stops trying to make sense of it and plunges on ahead. As they venture further in, she stops in her tracks, feeling the unmistakable sensation of eyes on her.

"Mr. Rabbit?" she calls. As great as her annoyance with the talking cottontail, his company would be much preferred to something with more nefarious intentions.

"This way! Come along now, don't dawdle."

She hurries on after him, looking all around her now, for the source of the creeping feeling.

Suddenly a velvety voice purrs from the treetops, "Now, who is your new friend, McTwisp?"

Helen whips around and faces a pair of large, luminous green eyes. From the eyes, her gaze is drawn to the formidable-looking toothy grin of the Cheshire cat.

"Ches, this is Alice's mother. She came to see what happened to her daughter."

"Her message didn't suffice, I take it?" he purrs, sounding offhand and bored. He vanishes in a wisp of blue smoke, reforming over Helen's shoulder. "I do see a resemblance. You'll find her at Witzend with the Hatter, they've been positively smitten with each other since she returned." He floats lazily overhead, the Rabbit follows after him, and Helen Kingsleigh resigns herself to following along. They've gone a few yards when she hears the clattering of dishes and the sound of shared laughter ahead. As they leave the forest and are once again in the sunlight, Helen beholds a long table, laid as though for a vast tea party. The only inhabitants are a strangely dressed man with wild red hair, and a merry young woman in a matching blue dress and hat.

"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?" he poses to her.

She titters softly, sipping her tea. With a wide grin she announces, "They both have bills on them, inky quills, and produce rather flat notes." The look of astonishment on Tarrant's face makes Alice laugh again, falling back against her seat, her own hat slightly askew. She then sees her friends the White Rabbit and Chessur escorting a very small someone towards them.

The Rabbit wisely judges that this would be a good time to leave. He certainly doesn't want to witness any of what's sure to follow. He scurries off without another word. Chessur floats easily to a chair and contents himself in leering over at the tiny frightened human. He's certainly not going to miss what's sure to follow! "Who've you brought, Ches? You're late for tea."

Helen stares up into her daughter's face. "Alice!"

"You can't be Alice, I'm Alice," she dismisses. Looking down at her place setting, she mutters, "I need a clean cup."

"Yes, yes, precisely. Move down, my dear. Let's see who's come."

Alice puts down her hand and her mother uncertainly steps on. When they're eye-level with each other, Alice gasps, followed by more giggles. "Mother! How in the world did you find me here? Oh! This is Tarrant, my fiancé."

Helen looks between the pair of them, bewildered. This is not a man she could allow her daughter to marry. He barely even looks human! "Alice, dear…"

"How long have I been away?" Alice asks, interrupting her mother.

Flinching from the abrupt change of subject, Helen collects her wits enough to remember. "You were reported missing on the 14th, that was three days ago."

"Only three days? It seems longer." She returns to the table and lowers her hand to let her mother off. Malyumkin peeks out of a teapot and gives Helen a surveying look, before ducking back down again with a soft clatter.

The Hatter pipes up, "But you see, remember time here runs faster than it does up there. It's been nearly a month. Time flies when you're having fun, you know."

"I know, I saw him yesterday. He flies quite well," Alice answers, cozying up with him again.

"And who are you, exactly, if I may ask?" Helen directs this question at her daughter's strange suitor. She looks as severe as a 3-inch high person can. Tarrant, too, can see the resemblance between his beloved and her mother. He's seen that look before, and knows that one who wears it isn't one to be trifled with.

"Tarrant Hightop, my dear lady, Hatter to the White Queen. I promised Alice that I would do anything in my power to ensure her safety and happiness. I must say, it is an honor to meet with you," he introduces himself as politely as he knows how. He may be half-mad but he's spent enough time at court to pick up some manners. He correctly reads her uncertain expression, she obviously has qualms about whether he and Alice were a proper match for each other. "I know. You're imagining what our children would look like."

Helen gives a short cry of protest, this was simply not discussed in polite circles. "And you…feel yourself able to provide for my daughter?"

"To the slightest detail," he assures her jauntily.

"And she has given _her_ consent?"

"Wholeheartedly," Alice replies, setting a minute teacup and saucer before her mother and pouring her a few drops. Although she says nothing more, Helen can see the way her daughter looks at this outlandish man…it reminds her of the way she used to gaze at Charles when they were courting. She shakes herself out of this line of thought and waits for Alice to remember that she's there. She takes a moment to marvel that they would have such tiny place settings, although given the nature of this topsy-turvy world, it wouldn't be entirely unthinkable that people and creatures are given to shrink and grow quite regularly. She takes a seat on an overturned saucer and crosses her legs primly.

"Oh, sorry, Mother. You take sugar, don't you?" Alice is treating her arrival as though she were utterly expected, breaking a corner off a sugar cube and expertly plunking it into her cup.

Out of politeness, Helen sips her tea, hoping to inject some sense into the situation. "Alice," she begins again, this time raising her voice to be heard clearly. "You _can't_ be serious about all this."

Unconcerned, Alice dips her shortbread into her teacup and nibbles. "Serious about what?"

"About running away to this…place!" There just aren't words in her vocabulary to properly describe her daughter's new home. "Just look around you, it's madness! If you stay down here you'll end up…"

Alice pointedly takes her betrothed's hand. "Yes?" she challenges her to finish her sentence.

Adamant that she will not lose her temper, her mother releases a sigh. Now she addresses the Hatter once more. "And as for you-"

Now Alice brings her hand down onto the table with a bang, causing dishes to jump and her mother to be thrown off her seat. "You just met him, Mother! How can you disapprove? _You_ wanted me to marry a complete and utter boor simply for convenience sake! By 'running away' I saved myself, and Hamish as well, years of irremediable unhappiness! I'll be all right, I promise. I didn't want you to know right away, I thought you'd take it like this."

"And how else would I? First I was sent a letter from Lord Ascot, telling me of your disappearance, as well as what I now know to be your way of announcing your elopement. Then I followed a talking rabbit down a ghastly hole, into this…this…"

"Underland. It's called Underland," Tarrant insinuates, thinking that he ought to get a word in.

"_Underland_," Helen growls, still unable to come up with a proper epithet for this loathsome dream-world. "And find you here, not a care in the world, gone for nearly a month by your calendar, engaged to marry a total stranger who I hope to God is colorblind." She instantly regrets this last barb when she sees the accused's reaction to it. Tarrant's eyes glow orange, for a moment he looks positively dangerous, but a second later he is brought to heel by Alice's touch and soft glance.

"My…eyesight...I'll have you know, is impeccable, madam," he says, still offended by her implications.

"He makes beautiful things, Mother," Alice puts in, helpfully soothing Tarrant's bruised ego. She takes off her hat and sets it on the table. "Just look at what he made me."

Indeed, Helen cannot deny the craftsmanship of his gift to her daughter. In a way she understands it was an engagement gift. A perfect token of affection from a hat-maker, she allows. For once, her pixie-like height lends itself to her advantage: she can see every small detail, right down to a silver monogram stitched into the band. Suddenly her anger and frustration are gone, replaced by the soft sad pangs she'd felt when Margaret was married. Whatever else this lunatic hat-maker might be, it's clear he is somehow just right for Alice. It's true that had she married Hamish, they both would have suffered enormously. Seeing her daughter so happy and alive makes the whole strange trip worth it somehow. She's just about to tell them so, when she receives a sharp prick in her back.

"Ow!" she cries out, turning around, torn from her deep thoughts.

Looking her squarely in the face is a creature nearly the same size as herself. A Dormouse who is wielding a hat pin like a sword. "Now see 'ere, if you think you can just drop out of the sky or wherever it is you came from, and start giving orders and calling names, you'll have me to deal with!" Brandishing her weapon again, Malyumkin looks fearlessly into her perceived enemy's eyes.

"Mally," Tarrant chides, plucking the pin from her paws. "No bloodshed at teatime."

She rounds back on Helen, giving her a glare that lets her know she's lucky. The Hatter gently shoos her away and she climbs back into a teapot to sulk. They can hear her muttered insults echoing hollowly until the lid is clapped down.

It's then that Mrs. Kingsleigh feels very tired. She sits back on the saucer and fans herself weakly. It's all been far too busy of a day. Alice sees her signs of fatigue even from her height and is sympathetic. "I wanted it to go better than this," Alice says, holding out her hand and gently nudging her mother into it. "I'm sorry. I only hope that someday…you can accept us. Because I'm staying, and there's nothing you can say or do to change my mind."

"Where will you have the wedding? Here? I'd so hoped to see you married."

Tarrant is quicker on the uptake, finding the full meaning of what she'd just said. "You'll have had more trips back and forth than…anyone," he says to his fiancée. "She isn't going to do anything to stop it, pet. What do you say?"

Still, Alice remains hesitant. "You really want us…up there? Everyone will see," she reminds her mother with a hint of warning. She already felt more a part of this world than she ever did in the Overlands, as she's even found herself referring to her old home. Yes, the groom would be unlike anyone that her friends and family had ever seen, but she would be different, too. "All right," she finally agrees.

"A wedding! I love weddings," Tarrant exclaims happily. "Drinks all around." And he freshens everybody's cup. "How do you do weddings in the Overlands?"

"Well," Alice tells him, "There'll be a formal ceremony first, hopefully that won't take too long."

"You'll wear your armor?"

Helen nearly chokes on her tea, "Armor?"

"Oh, didn't she tell you? She's our Champion! She slew the Jabberwocky on the Frabjuous Day!"

"You were marvelous against the Knave," Alice reminds him, purring into his ear.

"Please, no armor," her mother requests, realizing that had been something she never thought she'd say. Alice? A champion? Slaying…whatever-it's-called?

"What should I wear?" the Hatter asks, looking nervous about going about in another world. He suddenly appreciates how easy Alice always made it look.

"You look perfect," she assures him. "Whatever you wear will be fine."

"Can she at least bear the Vorpal Sword? It's a formal presentation, after all. Propriety."

Seeing her daughter brighten at the mention of her blade, Helen tries to come up with a good reason not to. "Well…I suppose. As long as nobody gets hurt." She takes a breath to speak at greater length, but Alice stops her.

"No. No corset, no stockings. I want to be comfortable, not tied up in those awful things. Besides, I can't futterwacken in a corset!"

"F-futter…?" Helen splutters, more and more dumbfounded at her daughter's vocabulary.

"You'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was shining on this perfect day, a golden afternoon in late spring. A vast crowd had assembled on the back garden in rows of white chairs facing a newly-erected gazebo. All are waiting for the approaching sign that things were about to begin. Of all the multitude, Mrs. Kingsleigh faces not the gazebo, but the large bent tree several yards to the left of it, waiting in growing agitation.

"_You really want us up there? Everyone will see."_ her daughter's warning plays through her mind, giving her not a small sense of foreboding. Everyone will see...but like her daughter, she'd made her decision. Suddenly, she sees the ground near the tree begin to shift, she bites her lip and wrings her handkerchief, there's no turning back now. She waves to the orchestra leader to begin to play A grand processional fills the air, although the guests see no sign of an approaching wedding party. Out hops the White Rabbit, who blows a short fanfare on his trumpet.

"All rise before the White Queen!"

The crowd is to shocked to do anything but obey. They all rise to their feet. Two chubby twin boys clamber out of the hole, one of them reaches down into it and help out a shimmering, regal woman who steps out as though from a staircase. She glides toward the crowd. She is followed by an array of strange creatures: a dodo bird, the Cheshire Cat, March Hare and Dormouse...amid this strange spectacle, a blue butterfly floats down from above, lighting on the gazebo. Once more, the Rabbit blows a fanfare. Now a man emerges, Tarrant Hightop, also known as the Mad Hatter, who graciously bends towards the rabbit hole, offering his hand...guiding out his bride. Alice emerges, all smiles, in her blue and white wedding dress. Her hair is down and unfettered, on her feet are simple white slippers and no stockings. At her side hangs the Vorpal Sword. The moment she takes her eyes off her betrothed and faces the crowd she betrays the most fleeting nervous twitch, clutching at her weapon as well as her groom's hand for reassurance. Given the choice between facing London's aristocracy and the Jabberwocky, she would've gladly taken another round with the Jabberwocky. Still, she assures herself, if she can do one she can do the other. Wishing earnestly that she could have brought the Bandersnatch with her, she turns her gaze away from the crowd, tries to ignore their startled gasps and theatrical fainting spells. Her family friends are all pointing, agape with amazement, at the unusual wedding party.

With a regal wave and stern, reproachful look, the White Queen calls them to order and they fall silent. The wedding party gathers in a semicircle in the gazebo, while the Tweedles set the altar with an array of vials and apothecary implements. A small kettle is set over a flame and is soon bubbling away. The White Queen draws the bride and groom near her, removes a sash from Tarrant's hat and with it she binds their hands. She then holds a vial aloft, announcing, "Yerba mate, for fidelity. You have fought side by side, let it be always so." She then sprinkles the herb into the kettle. "Poppy for fertility, that this union might be many times blessed. Lavender for happiness. Above all you must never forget your friendship. Lemon balm, for love. It is all we wish for you." As each ingredient is named it is added to the kettle. Soon the air is filled with a sweet fragrance. The Queen pours the tea into a large china cup, and holds it to Alice, who drinks from it. She's paid no attention to their audience since the ceremony began, her eyes are full of her groom. She feels him squeeze her hand as he is given the cup. He looks much more nervous than she; after all, he is much more a stranger in this world than she is. After he has drunk, he flings the cup to the ground and it shatters to pieces. The wedding party bursts into applause, along with the mother of the bride. It's certainly the strangest wedding she'd ever seen, but she can see the meaning of it. A smattering of late clapping flutters across the rest of the onlookers, as the residents of Underland celebrate amongst themselves. They watch as the bride and groom lead them in a dance that cannot be described, twisting and spinning in a most improper manner. The Cheshire cat materializes over the shoulder of a rather severe-looking woman and purrs one word into her ear. "Futterwhacken" and floats away. Soon the garden is empty of guests, they'd left in scandalized knots, muttering amongst themselves of the blantant impropriety of the event. The Underland group also takes their leave, one by one down the rabbit hole. When all that is left is immediate family, Helen embraces her youngest daughter.

"I think we've offended half of London's society, but I am happy for you, dear." She turns to her new son-in-law, "Take good care of her."

"I cannot do anything less. You'll come and visit us, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, Mother, we'd love to have you," Alice agrees.

Looking between them both, Helen falters, remembering her last visit, wondering if she'd ever see her daughter in the right proportions again. "I...I don't know."

"The Queen can help with the size problem," the Hatter puts in, rightly guessing at least part of the problem.

"I'll try, Alice. Someday."

That's good enough for them. Alice is then hugged by her older sister. No words are spoken. Truth be told, her reaction to the wedding was more in line with the other guests' way of thinking. Only family loyalty had held her in check. Still, she wishes her sister well in her new life, in her own way. She stares silently at Alice, taking in the whole spectacle. Her eyes are drawn irresistably to the sword at her hip, pointing at it questioningly. With a proud smile, Alice unsheaths it, and holds it flat for Margaret to inspect. "Did you really use that?" she wrinkles her nose at it, as though she beheld the carnage it had wrought.

"She is our Champion," the Hatter pronounces.

Unable to think of what to say to this news, she nods at Tarrant and gives her sister a pat. "Go on," she whispers, "I can't say I understand completely, but I can see this is for you." She exchanges an awkward glance with her new brother-in-law and excuses herself, hurrying back to the house with her husband at her heels.

Having said their goodbyes, Alice and Tarrant stroll back to the rabbit hole hand in hand, and plunge in together.

_Fin_


End file.
